Where you can't follow
by Atherys
Summary: After the Perfect-Pacifist ending, when Frisk (& Chara) are all settled into their new life living on the surface, Chara dreams of their old family. They don't quite wake up like they're supposed to.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** My first attempt to upload this went _horribly._ Hopefully this'll be better.

EDIT: Seems a lot of people are confused, so TL;DR on the things you might want to know before heading in (that I can't tell you in the tags because FFnet doesn't do tags): I love the Chara-as-Narrator theory (that _all_ the text in the game is Chara talking to Frisk, not just the Genocide run) and firmly believe that there's more to Chara than a murderous demon child (especially considering that they are, you know, a _child_.) The background context for this fic is that Chara and Frisk grew both friendlier and more dependent on each other throughout the game and Chara is now a bit of a backseat driver who's a bit messed up in more ways than one but isn't actually a _bad_ _person_ , or even particularly unpleasant.

The 'you' in this chapter is Chara.

Feel free to let me know if it's still confusing so I can fix it.

* * *

For some reason Frisk is entirely oblivious - or willfully ignorant - to the glory that is chocolate milk. None of your many attempts to convert them has succeeded so far, but you solemnly refuse to give up. As long as they're soft enough to make Toriel buy it for them anyways just so you'll be able to drink it from time to time there's still hope. This is one battle you will _definitely_ win.

You're right in the middle of one such attempt to make them see the light when there's a wrenching feeling in your chest and you're torn away, Toriel's kitchen flickering into nothingness only to be replaced by… Toriel's kitchen. Toriel and _Asgore's_ kitchen.

You're perched on one of the chairs, sitting much straighter than Frisk ever does, surrounded by your family. Asgore and Toriel are smiling at each other, and Asriel - Asriel is smiling at you. Oh. A dream, then.

The dreams you have of Home are simultaneously the best and the worst dreams you ever have. On some days it just hurts, being reminded of what you've lost, what you'll never have again, but on others… it's nice. To be back. Even if it's only imaginary.

You always wake up feeling strange and lost, and Frisk has learnt to recognise the feeling well enough not to ask you when you're quiet all morning.

For now, though, you resolve to make the most of it. You sit through the dinner, not talking much, but soaking up the atmosphere, the feeling. It's nice to see Asgore and Toriel get along so well. And Asriel…

As much as it hurts, it's nice to see Asriel. Full stop.

When dinner is finished and your parents have started to clean up, Asriel grabs your hand and starts pulling you away from the table, but he stops when you dig your heels in and don't move.

"Toriel?" you say, realising belatedly that this is a dream, she won't mind if you call her 'mom'.

"Yes, my child?"

"...could you read to us?" It is, in a sense, a silly thing to waste a dream for. You should go with Asriel, play with him, since you can't do that for real anymore, but. You've missed this. You've missed them talking to you .

"Would you not rather play outside until it is bedtime?"

"Not really," you say.

"Traitor," Asriel mutters, but his grip of your hand is still warm and steady, so you step on his foot in retaliation.

"Chara," Toriel admonishes. You try to look repentant. Probably you don't do it very well. "What would you like to hear?"

You prod Asriel towards the bookshelf. "You pick."

He takes approximately three seconds to pull a book out and shove it into Toriel's hands. She gives it a sceptical glance. You snort when you see the title.

"Again, 'Ree? Really?" you tease. He rolls his eyes at you.

"You like it just as much as I do, Chara."

He has a point.

You're still going to tease him about it.

You pull him down to the floor in front of her chair, scuttling closer to the fire which crackles and warms but does not burn. He pushes close to you and you lean against him.

Toriel isn't even trying to hide her smile. "Well, if you are both certain…"

She opens the book and begins reading. You let yourself drift.

When Asgore comes back you're halfway asleep, draped across Asriel. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders. It's nice.

"It grieves me to interrupt you," Asgore says, "But I find myself in need of company. It has been very lonely ever since my wife cruelly abandoned me to the dangers of clean-up duty."

Toriel muffles a laugh. "Oh, come here, you," she says with a warm smile, and pulls Asgore in to nuzzle his nose.

"Moooom," Asriel whines, covering his eyes with his paws. You hide your smile behind your palms.

"Hush, son," Asgore says. "A master must hone his craft!"

It startles a giggle out of you, immediately followed by a yawn.

"Sounds like it's off to bed with you two," Toriel says. Asriel mumbles a few token protests but he follows you up from the floor.

Before you leave you seize the chance to wrap your arms around Toriel. "Thanks, mom," you tell her, squeezing her tightly.

"Anytime, my child," she says, gentle as always, but when you pull away she looks baffled, which really strikes you as quite unfair. She never looks surprised when Frisk hugs her. Or calls her mom - well, not after that first time, at least.

Asgore picks Asriel up, cradling him in one arm. He reaches the other out to you. Had this been real you would've just taken his hand, but now you grab it, scramble up to cling to him just like Asriel, smiling when his chest rumbles with his laugh.

He tucks you both into bed, pulling the blankets up around you and ruffling your hair before he turns out the light bids you goodnight. You hear Asriel twisting and turning on the other side of the room.

You want to cross the room to his bed, your heart is aching with the need to be close to him, but you don't want to push your luck. Maybe if you try to squeeze out more happiness than you've already been given the dream will crack or morph into a nightmare. You have enough of those without courting them.

So instead you try to make yourself comfortable, burritoing yourself with the blankets, try to hold this feeling in your heart, so you can remember it when you wake up. Maybe then it won't hurt as much.

"Goodnight, Chara," Asriel whispers. You're silent a moment before answering, because it feels like this is it, this is the signal to call you back to the real world again, and you don't really want to go. You want to stay.

"...goodnight, Asriel," you tell him, turn over so you can't see him anymore, and try to sleep.

* * *

You wake up still feeling more content than lost. Good. A quick squint reveals the room is bright. Probably you should get out of bed.

But the blanket is soft and you are so warm and comfortable. Getting up now would be a _crime_ , so instead, you burrow in deeper under the blankets, and push your face into the pillow, stifling a yawn.

Wait.

You frown, hands twitching, and twist your fingers into the sheets. Your body obediently follows suit, copying your movements with no noticeable delay.

What?

 _Frisk?_ you think, thoughts still a bit sluggish from how sleepy you are. _You awake?_

The lack of response pushes you quite a bit further from sleep mode.

This is… strange. It's not like it's been long since you were in control of the body - you and Frisk tend to switch it up pretty regularly these days - but in general it's sort of… theirs by default? It has to be a deliberate change: you taking control, or Frisk giving it up.

It's been a long time since you last took control.

You've never _woken up_ having their body before.

You hear heavy footsteps approaching the room, and suddenly you're wide awake.

 _Frisk? C'mon, wake up. Toriel's here to get you, come_ ** _on, Frisk_ ** \- but there's no reply, and the footsteps keep getting closer.

In a fit of desperation, you try to relinquish control again, let go off their body and let your consciousness go back to sleeping, or floating in that strange mindspace of almost-real you're always in when Frisk has control, but-

-you can't do it. No matter how much you squeeze your eyes shut and try to will yourself away you don't go anywhere, because there's nowhere to go, there's- there's no one to give control back to .

You can't breathe. Frisk isn't responding and you can't breathe. The air is too heavy in your lungs, and they're _your_ lungs now, and god, how long has it been since you had nowhere to run, since there's been no one to snap you out of it? You can't leave the body. You can't _leave._

The door creaks open and you cover up a flinch, try to relax your shoulders and breathe normally again. _We're sleeping_ , you think, wishing with every inch of your being that Toriel will just go without waking you up. Shit, today isn't a school day, right? Maybe you can pretend to be ill and she'll just let you stay in bed all day, no social interaction necessary. You need time, you need to figure out what's going on, you need to get Frisk back before anyone notices they're gone. _We're sleeping, let us keep sleeping just a little while longer, please._

Inhale. Exhale. Everything will be okay.

"Awww, really? You're _still_ sleeping?" comes the voice from the door as its owner bounds across the room. You freeze, breath catching in your throat again as your eyes fly wide open. _What._

The bed dips down behind you and your body rolls over onto its back until you're staring at him, feeling too much to put into words. Your mind blanks out completely.

"C _' mon_ , Chara, it's time to get up," he says, and your body croaks out a response almost entirely without your permission, you can't stop it, just as you can't stop your heart from beating ridiculously fast in your chest.

"Asriel?"


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Frisk POV time! Head's up, both Frisk  & Chara are non-binary. It's a thing. They both go by 'they'. (Also, Frisk is selectively mute sort of, that's why they sign sometimes.)

I love the narrator!Chara theory with all my heart meaning they're _still_ not a murderous demon, just a fucking nerd with a Lot of issues. Through the course of the game they and Frisk came to depend on each other for a lot. Adjusting to being your own person again isn't exactly easy, for either of them.

Comments are love, comments are life, etc etc, you all know the drill. Enjoy!

* * *

You're sitting at the breakfast table when Chara disappears.

You're kicking your feet under the table, idly swinging them back and forth, and making what you hope is appropriate breakfast conversation with Toriel. Mainly you're just humming a lot in what is probably the right places. You're not really paying attention. Chara is being distracting.

"Would you prefer the chocolate milk or the regular milk today, my child?" she asks.

 _Chocolate_ , Chara says.

You try not to roll your eyes. _It's my turn today,_ you tell them, _so, no._

 _Come on Frisk,_ they wheedle, _Just this once. I'll do your English homework for you._

You pretend to consider it, then send them the general feeling of a shrug. _Nope_.

"Regular, please," you tell Toriel. Chara groans. _Traitor. You are, by far, the worst person I've ever had to share a body with. I swear I'll talk through all your lessons, just you wait._

You hide your smile behind your spoon. They wouldn't, and both of you know it. Number one perk of sharing a body: if either of you gets in trouble, both of you have to make up for it, and if you miss out on information in school you'll have to spend twice as long reading at home. Which might be fun if it wasn't school books.

You're pretty confident they wouldn't deliberately get you in trouble even if you weren't sharing a body anyways. It's been a long time since they were anything other than helpful.

Toriel hands you the milk. You smile brightly at her and wait placidly for Chara to lose patience and start nagging you again. It only takes them about thirty seconds.

 _I just don't **understand** ,_ they say, _chocolate is **amazing,** everything that tastes of chocolate is amazing, ergo, chocolate milk is also amazing. It's the food of gods, Frisk. How can you just **not** **like it**?_

 _It's too sweet,_ you say serenely and start pouring it into your bowl.

 _Too sweet?_ Chara says disbelievingly. _Frisk. **Frisk.** Listen-_

-and then they're gone. There's no warning, no gradual fade-away, just their voice cutting off mid-sentence, and a sudden silence.

Your smile freezes on your face. _Chara…?_ They've stopped talking to you for seemingly no reason several times in the past, when something reminds them of things they'd rather not think about, or when you've inadvertently pissed them off, but it hasn't been like this. This is different. You can't feel them. There's always a corner of your mind that isn't your own, a presence that over time has grown to be comforting, but now when you send a probing thought their way there's nothing there. It's empty.

 _Chara this isn't funny_

They don't reply, of course they don't, they wouldn't do this to you on purpose.

Black spots are dancing before your eyes and there's a strange whooshing sound in your ears. You feel dizzy. You feel- you feel-

The milk drops from your fingers and splashes over the table as you clamp your hands over your ears. You back from the table until your back hits the wall and you can push into it, sliding down to the floor so you can curve into yourself, be smaller, disappear. Someone is touching your arms but you can't deal with that right now, shaking your head and tightening your grip over your ears. Everything is so loud. Your heartbeat is so loud.

 _Chara please_

It doesn't make sense but it feels like it echoes, like your mind has gone from being a home to a desolate cave. They're not _there_.

 _Come back_

 _please_

 _I need you to come back_

But nobody comes.

* * *

When you come back to your senses you're on the couch instead of the floor, and someone is stroking your hair.

 _Chara?_ you send out, with the weak hope that you just imagined it, but they don't respond. Your mind is still more spacious than it should be. They're really gone.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, and try to sit up.

The hand in your hair stills. Toriel makes a concerned noise and helps you up, hand on your shoulders. "Frisk," she says, cautiously, "I am glad you're awake. Are you feeling better, my child?"

You nod, pause, and then shake your head. You open your mouth to speak but you can already tell words are sort of beyond you right now, so you raise your hands to your chest to sign instead. They're shaking. _'Sort of.'_ You quickly follow it up with an _'I'll be fine though,'_ trying to convince yourself more than her.

"Could you tell me what it was that set you off?"

You shrug.

"Frisk, please," she says, still calm and careful, but with a thread of frustration. "I cannot help you if I do not know what happened. Nor can I guarantee I won't say… whatever I said to startle you so badly if you will not explain to me what it was."

You press your lips together and instinctively hunch your shoulders. _'Really I'll be fine,'_ you insist, _'I just need some air be back in a bit bye'_ and then you're up on your feet and leaving, darting out the door even as Toriel is telling you "Wait-"

Outside the air is cool and you take a deep breath, let it settle in your lungs, and then you run and run until your legs are aching and you're far enough away that no one will think to look for you there, and you can finally let yourself fall into a little pile on the ground. The leaves crackle beneath you. In your pocket your phone is buzzing insistently, but you don't pick up.

You can't talk to her about this.

You wish you could, but you can't. You can't talk to anybody about this.

None of the others know that Chara exists.

You've wanted to tell them so many times, and you think sometimes they've suspected something's up, when something startles Chara and they lash out instead of freezing up like you do, or when they laugh, or when they make you laugh at something nobody has heard. But you've never said a word. Not even when you say or do something you've picked up from them and it makes Toriel's smile turn melancholic. You're sure that it would make her happier, or at least less sad, to know. You think she deserves to know, but you can't tell her.

Because Chara asked you not to.

They asked you not to and it's _their_ secret. That means they call the shots.

Simple as that.

You know why they don't want her to know. You think you even understand - it's the same reason Asriel wouldn't let you bring him with you from the Underground, the same reason Alphys hid the amalgamates for so long, and the same reason you have never explained to anyone exactly what happened during your time in the Underground.

The same reason why you've never told anyone about the resets.

You wish you could reset right now. Load up an earlier SAVE, one where Chara is still with you and everything's alright, but that's not possible.

You haven't been able to save since you left the Underground. It's like all your SAVEs have just… disappeared.

There's still _something,_ they say, but it's far, far away, and they refuse to touch it. Say it feels like it'd unravel everything you've done, tear the world out from under your feet, and for what? You're satisfied with the ending you got.

Neither of you are willing to risk losing it.

Chara thinks the reason you can't save anymore is something to do with the magic that was all over the Underground. Your bet is on the Barrier. Either way, it doesn't matter, it all amounts to the same thing; there's no earlier SAVE for you to reload. There's just you, and now, and the _loneliness._

You anxiously rub your fingers over the seam in your jeans. You want Chara back. You would, you think, do _anything_ to get Chara back. But isn't that selfish?

… if you bring everyone their happy ending again, it would be alright, wouldn't it? Chara would understand. You're sure, if the others knew, they would too. Right?

You tentatively reach out for the reset, not really trying to _do_ it, exactly, just checking to see if you can get a grip on it without Chara to guide you, but… there's nothing there. Just like before you climbed Mt Ebott. You can't reset. Not at all.

Your eyes fill with tears but you blink them away. Crying doesn't help. This isn't the time. There's always a way, there's always a way to solve things. You didn't get through the Underground by giving up! You must, like you always have, _stay determined._

 _Okay,_ you think. _Okay. Chin up, Frisk. Stop moping._

There must be something you can do to fix this. Even when you have no idea what happened. Even when you're all alone-

-but you're not alone, are you? You have your friends, all of them. If you need help they'd be there for you, you _know_ that, and even if they don't know Chara…

You vow to yourself that you'll try, you'll _really try_ to keep their secret, but. Getting them back is more important. (You very determinedly do _not_ think about what would happen if you were forced to tell Asgore and Toriel the truth only for it to end up being hopeless. That won't happen. It _won't._ )

You nod to yourself and straighten up, brushing yourself off as well as you can. It's… sort of cold. Nowhere near as cold as in Snowdin, of course, but. Possibly you should've brought a jacket. _Anyways._

Everything will be okay. You just need to ask for help.

Your phone buzzes again and you wince. Maybe the first step ought to be letting Toriel know you're okay.

After that there's someone you need to talk to.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Back to Chara POV again!

* * *

This is not Frisk's body.

You think maybe you should've noticed straight away? But you didn't. It's been so long.

This is not Frisk's body; it is yours.

You're skinnier than them, more angular, less soft. They're a bit taller, you think, judging by how your arms and legs feel shorter than they should be. But that might just be because of age. Your skin is paler and you blush more easily, face turning red and blotchy at the slightest provocation.

Your scars are in different places.

Asriel is still standing next to you. No, wait, he was sitting down before; he's standing up now, you think you pushed him off the bed. You've pushed yourself into the corner, as far away as you can get, because he can't be real. None of this can be real.

Your breathing speeds up until you're hyperventilating, gasping for air. Your nails - what's left of them - dig into your palms. You can't stop staring at your hands. They're your hands. They're _your_ hands, not Frisk's, you have _your body_ again, and Frisk isn't here. _Frisk isn't here_.

A tide of hysterical laughter tears itself from your throat, bubbles out from somewhere deep inside you. Oh god. Oh, god.

This is all so funny, isn't it? You're laughing so hard it feels like it might drown you, ribs aching with the force of it. You can't stop. It's just so _funny._

How many times have you wanted to be rid of them? Have a body of your own again? Not have their _stupid_ voice yapping at you all the time, telling you what to do and not to do, _no, Chara, we're not going to fight them, put that down, we can find another way, I'm_ _ **sure**_ _,_ pulling you out of every frenzy you manage to work yourself into, trying to keep you _in line_ , trying to, trying to, trying to _save_ you-

You don't realise you're crying until your vision blurs and the tears drip down your chin and onto your hands. The laughter sounds more like sobs at this point but you still. Can't. _Stop._

Why? Why did they always have to try to _fucking save_ everyone?

... well, they can't save you now. You're alone. You're not sure what you did, but it finally got what you wanted. Well done, Chara.

Are you satisfied?

In time, the tears dry out and the laugh comes to a halting stop, gives way to a low moan as you fold in over yourself. You're alone. You're _alone_. Frisk isn't here. Frisk isn't-

-but Asriel is. Asriel is here.

With more determination than should be needed for such a small task, you lift your hands and wipe at your face with your sleeves. It comes away soaked in tears and snot. _Gross_ , you think, but there's no one to answer you. You breathe in as deeply as you can, steeling yourself for the sight, and turn your eyes to Asriel.

He's still standing by the bed, but he's shaking, eyes wide and anxious, paw hovering near your shoulder but not touching you.

You're scaring him.

Is he scared _of_ you or _for_ you? You genuinely can't tell anymore.

With another deep breath you grab his paw, pressing it to your cheek. He takes his cue and steps closer, wrapping you in a hug, he's- he's so small. He's still sort of shaking. You want to keep crying, you want to tell him _it's okay, I'm okay, stop looking like that, stop it_ , you want, you want, you want.

You don't tell him any of that. You just squeeze your eyes shut and try to _breathe_. You're still not waking up.

You don't understand _how_ or _why_ , but you don't think you're dreaming. Somehow, you're really here. Somehow, you're _back_.

"...don't," you manage to force out after a while, stumbling over the words, "don't tell A-Asgore and Toriel."

"But Chara-!"

" _No_. Please, Asriel. They can't know. Please."

He tenses up, face scrunching up into a wobbly grimace, and then he sags, dropping his head down on your shoulder. "Alright," he mumbles. "I won't tell."

"Do you promise?"

"...yeah. I promise."

You card your fingers through his fur. It's soft. You'd almost forgotten. "Thanks, 'Ree."

It is with much reluctance you detach yourself from him again. You want to stay with him and keep pretending it's all just a dream and you'll wake up again in just a little while. You want to let him keep holding you forever. But your skin is _buzzing,_ and you need to get out. You need to sort this out. You need to _think._

"I need to be alone for a while," you tell him, ignoring the guilt. "Cover for me?"

"..."

"Asriel…?"

"...yeah. Sure."

He sounds unhappy, which, of course he does. But it's not the first time you've disappointed him.

"Thank you."

When you leave the room you don't look back.

* * *

Light spills in through the windows, bathing the hall in gold. Your steps echo on the floor. There's… a lot of memories in this place. A lot of things that went unsaid, or were only ever hinted at.

You remember coming here with Frisk, thinking that it was the last step on your journey. You remember how _purposeful_ the both of you were, so determined to reach the end, to make it through, to set things _right_.

You remember what came after.

Even so… It's not so bad, this place. It sets your mind straight, soothes you, somewhat. The only dust here comes from the combination of time and lackluster sweeping.

There's a sound behind you and you flinch, for a moment expecting to find sans standing behind you to bestow judgment upon _you_ instead of on Frisk, but it's just a monster shuffling through, probably on their way to see the King and Queen. Nothing to fear.

You still step behind a pillar before they see you.

Hiding like this sort of reminds you of the lamp back in Snowdin. You crack a smile and think _Close one, huh? All hail convenient hiding spots._

There's no reply. The smile drops from your face.

It's such a strange thing to be alone in your own mind.

For the longest time, it's been you-and-Frisk, separate minds but the same _entity_ , almost. At times your consciousness would bleed over to theirs, or theirs to yours, and it would feel like being a single person. It would feel like you had a soul.

... your soul. Do you have that, here? Your hand presses down on your ribcage, even though you know you can't actually feel it that way. How do you find out? You don't know how to draw it out on your own. Frisk tried, a couple of times, with and without your help, but neither of you ever managed to make it work outside of a fight. You suppose you could ask Asriel or Toriel or Asgore to spar with you, but-

 _the fire never burned before but it burns you now there is a thin coating of dust on your hands on your clothes flying up around you when you hit the ground everyone crumbling into pieces there is only atk and def and LOVE you need to raise your LOVE you need to_

\- you don't really want to.

You think… without Frisk, maybe it would be for the best if you never fought anyone again.

You're biting your lip hard enough to bleed. You don't need LOVE anymore, you don't need to fight anyone anymore, this world is _not_ kill or be killed, it isn't, _it isn't_ , Frisk showed you that, the two of you proved it together, _you don't need LOVE._ There are other kinds of strength, and you have _love,_ now. You have-

This... is the place where you first found love. Back before Frisk, back before all of it. They loved you. You loved them (you still love them).

You know that you, out of everyone in this world, has no right to be here, has no right to be _happy_ here, but could you really bear to leave it again?

 _Can_ you leave it again?

Tentatively, you reach out for a SAVE, but there's nothing there. _Of course not,_ you think, face twisting into a bitter grimace. _It'd be too much to ask for things to ever just be_ _ **simple**_ _, huh?_

Once again you are met only by silence.

 _Whatever._

Knowing there's nothing to anchor you to anything anymore is… strange. If you died now, it might actually kill you.

Huh.

You shake of the thought, thinking _focus, Chara_ , _get to the point_ , and then you do. Get to the point.

Why are you here? You close your eyes, try to remember if anything had been different before you woke up here, but nothing comes to mind. No strange artefacts, no ominous deals with mysterious strangers, no potential gateways to different dimensions, just… you and Frisk, going on with their life, like always. You'd been feeling a bit worn out, you guess - sort of stretched thin, aimlessly drifting now that your existence suddenly didn't have a clear end goal in sight - but that wasn't exactly _unusual_ , just sort of _annoying._ You'd never really expected to have to go back to a normal existence again, after… everything. You'd always planned to go out with a bang, and then that would be the end.

And then 'the end' turned out to only be a new beginning.

And none of that seems even vaguely relevant to the situation at hand.

With a frustrated sigh you rake your hands through your hair. This isn't doing you any good. You're not getting any _answers_.

You need some air. And… you need to find your parents. Need to confirm that they are still here, too, that they haven't disappeared while you had your back turned. This world _feels_ real, but that doesn't really mean anything, does it? Appearances can be deceiving. Until you know what's going on you can't trust it, this could all fall apart around you any second.

Or you could.

 _Enjoy it while it lasts_ , you think again, forcing your mind away from the depressing possibilities, _Cherish every moment, Chara. Don't let go yet._

Trailing your hand over the wall, you start making your way towards the throne room.

* * *

You may, you realise as your body grows numb and you stand petrified only a few steps out of the doors, have made a slight miscalculation. Turns out things are a bit more difficult to deal with when you can't just disconnect yourself and let Frisk run the show on their own for a while. Probably you should've seen this coming.

Last time you were here there were golden flowers everywhere, covering the entire garden, almost glowing in the light. But those were only there because of you, because of Asriel, because of your mistakes.

Now, there are buttercups.

They're so bright it makes you nauseated just to look at them, but you can't tear your eyes away. Everything else goes away, the world narrows down to this one thing. You can hear your heart beating in your head, a phantom pain in your stomach, the _taste_ of them still lingers on your tongue- _you feel your worst sin crawling on your back-_

"Chara," someone says behind you. You startle, flinching away from the voice and instinctively falling into a defensive stance, ready to strike at the threat, and then it properly registers in your mind. No threat. Nothing here is a threat to you. They do not mean you harm. You risk a glance up at the one who spoke. It's Asgore. He doesn't _look_ angry, but sometimes it's hard to tell, and sometimes things change very quickly. Once you were convinced he'd never be able to bring himself to intentionally hurt _anybody_ (once you thought this made him weak) but…

He could hurt Frisk, as much as you're certain he hated every second of it. He _did_ hurt Frisk. The two of you died over and over and over again as you tried to find a different solution but _there was none_ , there was nothing you could do, he refused to let you spare him, and you refused to give up when you had come so far. Frisk _died_.

 _He made Frisk fight._

But… that was long ago. It was long ago and it hasn't happened yet.

Your breaths are still quicker and more shallow than they should be but you stand up properly, letting your hands fall to your sides. The hem of Asgore's robe trails over the ground. He'll get it all muddy again.

He doesn't chastise you for your reflexes. Instead, he gently nudges you away from the flower patch, tilting your head upwards with a gentle paw. You're not sure what he sees in your eyes. You're not sure what there is to see anymore, if there ever was anything. Does he see a murderer? A demon? A soulless husk? You were all those things, once. And then came Frisk.

….and then they were gone.

Whatever Asgore is looking for he seems to find it. He pulls his paw away from your chin and places it on your shoulder instead. "We know it was an accident, Chara. You have been forgiven, and no lasting damage was done. It is in the past now. You do know that, don't you?"

For a moment, one single blissful moment, you think this means he knows after all. Maybe they all know where you're from, what has changed, what you have _done,_ and maybe, as outrageous as it is, as little as you deserve it, they have found it in their hearts to forgive you. Maybe you don't have to feel guilty about being here after all. Then your thoughts catch up and you realise: oh. The buttercups. This must be just after you and Asriel made that pie. It wouldn't have been many days from now you ask him to help you with your plan.

Maybe you already have.

"Yeah," you tell him. "I know."

Something in your voice must betray you, because Asgore's brows knit together in a frown.

"Are you alright, my child?" he asks, paw heavy on your shoulder. You must hesitate a moment too long before nodding, because he keeps going. "Chara. We all care very deeply for you, and we want nothing else than for you, and Asriel, to be happy. If there was something bothering you, anything at all… you would tell us about it. Would you not?"

Your mind throws you for a loop, weighing the risk of telling him vs the risk of lying only to be caught in that lie when Asriel tells him about this morning, and then you realise you're being ridiculous.

Asriel is not a tattletale. He wouldn't tell on you, not ever. He never did.

 _Not even when maybe he should have,_ you think, guilt like concrete in your chest.

"I'm okay, Mr- I mean, Dad," you say, as softly as you can muster. The word feels as odd in your mouth now as it did then. Now. Then. Frisk doesn't really call Asgore 'dad' much. "Really, I am."

He nods, slowly. "You know, it's been… quite some time since we last spent some time together, you and I," he says, and for one terrifying split of a second you think he'll ask you to help him in the garden and you don't trust yourself around anything sharp right now, but instead he just smiles. "Would you care for a cup of tea?"

Your eyes fill with tears and you tilt your head down again so you can hide behind your bangs, scrubbing furiously at your eyes in a useless attempt not to cry. God, you're so pathetic. "Yeah," you say, voice disgustingly wobbly. "Yeah, Dad. I'd like that."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** aaand we're back to Frisk POV.

* * *

You fish your phone out of your pocket, finding, just as you expected, about twenty missed calls from Toriel, and, to your great surprise, a text from Sans.

 **hey, frisk. is everything alright?**

The words glare up at you from the screen. You're not sure what to respond. In the end you settle for keeping it simple.

 **Yeah I'm fine**

He responds almost instantly.

 **glad to know you're okay. tori's freaking out.  
let her know you're safe, kid.**

A part of you slowly twists up in guilt, but you try to brush it off. There's… been a lot of things to adjust to, after moving in with Toriel. Lots of things in your life are entirely new, or at least very different from what they used to be.

So far the hardest thing to get used to is having people around who would miss you if you weren't around. Who would not only notice if you went missing, but _worry_ about you. Maybe even _look_ for you.

It's… strange. And you're not always the best at managing it. You're getting there, though. Slowly.

For now, you try to focus on the task at hand.

 **I know I know**

 **I will  
I didn't mean to make her worry.**

You click out of the conversation and write a message to Toriel. You're not really sure what to say, so it basically comes down to a quick 'I'm alright', followed by apologising and telling her you're fine, really, but you'll stay out a while longer.

Soon as you've sent it there's another message from Sans.

 **i figured.  
you gonna tell me what happened?**

Your fingers hover over the screen, hesitating. Are you? You're not sure. You don't want more people to know than what is absolutely necessary. You owe it to Chara to keep their secret.

...but more than that, you owe it to save them, don't you? And Sans knows things, he's smart. He knows, you suddenly recall, about the resets, though you're not certain how much. After everything that happened with Asriel, and breaking the barrier, it sort of slipped your mind, and you've been so busy since.

You make up your mind.

 **Yeah. Meet me at alphys' place? I need to talk to her too**

The pause this time is a bit longer. You impatiently tap your foot on the ground.

 **sure. see ya**

The air in your lungs rushes out of you in one long breath. There. That's you, having taken the first step. That's supposed to be the hardest one, isn't it? You're off.

Now you just need to keep moving.

* * *

You stand outside Alphys' door, hand raised to knock. It's been five minutes. You still haven't knocked.

You're not sure where to start. But… you figure that sort of means you can start _anywhere,_ right? You want to know what happened, you want to know why Chara is gone, you want to find a way to bring them back. You think, maybe, to understand any of that, you first need to understand why they were even with you in the first place.

If they were here right now they'd tell you to stop being such a wimp and just go for it already. They can be such a _jerk_ sometimes.

Reminding yourself why you're here, you hold your breath and rap your knuckles against the door. It swings open, and there's Sans. He looks… entirely unperturbed. But that's him just about always. You and Chara are both extremely envious of the advantage being a literal skeleton gives you to keeping a good poker face.

Knowing he's looking at you makes you feel incredibly self conscious. You fight down the urge to cross your arms, and bring them up to your chest to sign instead. _'Hi.'_

'Hi yourself. You gonna come in?"

You nod and try to straighten up a bit, make it look like you're more okay than you actually are. You don't think you do very well.

"Gotta say, you've got me curious," he mumbles, and then holds the door open for you. "Hey, Alphys! They're here."

There's a little 'oh!' from one of the other rooms, and then Alphys appears at the end of the hallway.

"Hi, Frisk!" she calls to you. She's smiling. "Do you- W-would you like a drink? Or something?"

You don't really feel like eating or drinking anything right now, but… Chara was always a firm believer in the theory that there's absolutely no situation that can't be improved by tea, so you ask for that, before following Alphys into the living room. She gestures to the couch. You sit down on the couch and try to make yourself comfortable while she goes into the kitchen to get the water boiling.

Sans takes a seat across from you. You can't help but shrink into yourself, hunching your shoulders - and then you remember that neither of them would mind, so you pull your legs up underneath you and sit like that. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you, but you still feel his eyes on you even though every time you sneak a glance he's looking somewhere else. It's sort of a relief when Alphys comes back and sits at the other end of the couch.

"It'll be just a moment," she tells you, before lapsing into silence. You should break it. But you're not really sure how.

In the end, Alphys does it for you. "S-so!" she says, turning to you. "W-what's up? Sans said you had something to talk about…"

"Yeah," you say, out loud. Your throat is dry. "I need to ask you something. About souls."

Her face falls. It's only for a moment; she plasters on a smile again almost immediately, but you saw it happen. The air in the room feels suddenly heavier somehow, and you don't dare to look back at Sans. You wish you had something to fiddle with. A ring, or a bracelet, or… just about anything, really. Instead you settle for pulling at your sleeve.

"S-souls?" she stutters. "I- um- y-yeah, sure. Go ahead!"

You hate to bring her down from her good mood like this. You hate to be the one to remind her about everything. It's not like you knew her all that well before, so you haven't got anything definite to compare to, but she's… really a lot happier in general now, you think, when she hasn't got everyone's fates hanging on her shoulders anymore. Just like you.

... _and just like Chara,_ you think, with a painful sting. You give yourself a mental shake. _Stop that._ _You're getting them back. That's why you're here._

"Can…" you start, only to stop and start over. That's not the right question. You know _if_. You want to know _how_. "What could cause someone to… stick around after their soul is gone?"

She laughs nervously. "W-well… I guess… if they're a human, their, um, determination keeps their soul from shattering, and someone could…"

"I'd think you know more about that than we do, Frisk," Sans says, not unkindly, but with an odd edge to his voice. You shake your head.

"No, that's not what I meant - I mean, if their soul _has_ shattered? If it's _really gone_? How would someone… be alive after that?"

Alphys' face twists up in confusion, brows furrowing. "Um. They can't? I mean… If your soul breaks, that's… that's it."

"But what if, _hypothetically_ , someone could? How would it happen?"

"Sorry, Frisk." She makes a helpless gesture. "I don't really know what you want me to say, it just… isn't possible."

"But-" you say, fumbling for the words. "As long as you still have determination- the amalgamates-"

"They weren't really _gone_ , Frisk. They were just… fading. And besides-" the corners of her lips quirk up in a vague approximation of a smile "- we all know how well that went."

A heavy silence spreads in the room. You do. On some level you're aware that this is where you're supposed to comfort her,

"I really am sorry, Frisk," she tells you. You don't respond. The silence stretches out until it's miles past 'uncomfortable', but you don't care.

"W-well!" Alphys says with forced cheer. "I bet the tea water's ready! I'll be right back!"

And then she leaves the room, and you have to press your nails into your arms to stay still.

She can't help you. The thought fills you with a hopelessness so intense you think that if you were a monster, it might actually kill you. _No._ No, you're not giving up, you're _not_. _Pull yourself together._

Living on without a soul _is_ possible. You know it is, because Chara _did_ , and so it must be. Their existence in itself is proof. That means there must be a solution, an explanation, there must be, there _must_ be.

"Frisk," Sans says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You'd almost forgotten he was there. Your eyes dart to his. "What's this about, really?"

You shrug.

"That wasn't really a hypothetical question, was it?"

Even though it's fairly obvious he already knows what your answer is going to be, you hesitate before shaking your head.

"I figured. So. Who's dead?"

You can't help it; you flinch at the word. "It's not _like_ that," you say, forcefully enough that it takes you by surprise. Him too, judging by the way he actually blinks.

"They're not dead," you say, not sure who you're trying to convince. "They're not."

"Alright," he says, spreading his arms in an attempt to placate you. "I'm just saying… Bringing people back from… wherever they've gone might not be the best idea."

You know. Or, well, you don't _know_ , but that's just how it always works, isn't it? Every book, every TV-show, every movie you've ever watched - once someone's dead, it's better they just stay that way. Trying to bring people back is always where the real trouble starts.

But Chara _isn't dead._

… or maybe they were always dead. Either way, it doesn't matter, it _doesn't_ , and however things work normally this isn't the _same_. _You've_ died. You've died over and over and over - and then you've come back, and that's been _fine._

"It's not the same," you tell him. "They're… If they're dead they were dead before I ever knew them."

You fall silent as Alphys comes back in, bringing you the tea. You curl your fingers around the cup, careful not to burn yourself.

"Thank you," you say, forcing a small smile to your lips for her.

"We can't help if we don't know what's going on, Frisk," Sans says. Alphys looks questioningly between the two of you, but she sits back down without commenting. You're grateful.

You take a small sip from the cup. It's hot, and Alphys always puts too much sugar in it - this is one of the few occasions where you and Chara agree that it's possible for something to have _too much_ sugar - but it's okay. Chara would probably appreciate it more than you do, though.

...they wouldn't want you to tell-

\- _and that means nothing if they're gone forever,_ you remind yourself, as you take a deep breath, and start talking.

You tell them about falling into the Underground, about being lost and lonely, and then… hearing a voice, a child just like you, and how you were never really lonely again. For the longest time you thought you'd gone crazy, but compared to everything else, hearing voices was really a fairly small thing. And they knew things you didn't, could tell you stuff about people you'd never met before in your life… At first they were sort of a guide. Eventually, they became a friend.

It's… weird, telling someone about all this. You've never had to say it out loud before, and you feel so clumsy - the words won't come out right, you're stumbling and stuttering and probably making things a lot more confusing than they have to be, but Alphys and Sans are a good audience. They stay quiet, letting you talk at your own pace, even as you take breaks to rephrase something or sip at the tea, which is slowly growing cold.

...you don't tell them everything. Some things belong to you and Chara alone. And some things… Some things you wish you could forget, but they're chiseled into your memory, flashes of things that should never have happened burning at the back of your brain. It's irrelevant, it's not _real_ anymore, you went back, you set it right. You won't let it happen again. They won't let it happen again. It's in the past; it doesn't matter now.

"...and this morning they just disappeared," you say, reaching the end. You're not crying. You feel like this is something to be proud of. "I don't know what happened, it was just- they were there, and then they weren't, and I want them back _._ " Your voice breaks. They're kind enough to pretend it doesn't. "They're gone and they shouldn't be, and I want them _back_."

"Well, then," Sans murmurs, leaning back. "That's a tricky one."

"I don't understand what happened," you say helplessly.

"You're sure they didn't just… move on, or something? Went wherever people go when they die?"

"They didn't," you say, but even to your own ears you don't sound very convincing. "They wouldn't… Chara wouldn't do that to me. Not without saying goodbye, or…"

"Wait." Alphys interrupts you with a frown, speaking up for the first time since you begun the story. "Did you say _Chara?"_

You freeze, hands clenching around the cup. You'd forgotten - the _tapes -_ they were in Alphys' lab, she'd know, of _course_ she'd know-

"Chara as in Asgore and Toriel's-"

"We can't tell them," you blurt out, catching her eye. She looks… baffled, more than anything. "Chara wouldn't want them to know. They never wanted them to know."

To your great surprise, neither of them tries to argue against you.

"The first fallen, huh…" Sans muses, and shoots Alphys a Look you can't decipher. She looks conflicted, fidgeting under the combined weight of your stare and Sans' and you know, with earth-shattering certainty, that she's hiding something. Something important.

Part of you wants to confront her, wants to scream and take her by the shoulders and shake her until she tells you everything she knows but- no. That… isn't who you are, that isn't what you do, you're determined to be _better_ than that. You've been on the wrong side of that exchange too many times, and it never makes anything better, does it? If she knows anything that can help you, she'll tell you anyways. She's your friend. You trust her. You trust your friends. You _have_ to.

Oblivious to your brief inner battle, Alphys seems to be facing one of her own. Still looking uncertain, she turns to you.

"Frisk… Y-you really want this… right?"

'Want' isn't nearly enough to describe it. Chara's absence is a tangible _hole_ inside of you; you don't want this, you _need_ it. You need them to come back, and you're certain that wherever they are, they need you too. You've been doing surprisingly alright so far, but you can't keep it up alone, you can't keep going alone when there's supposed to be two of you. You need them back.

You want to tell her about Chara - not like you did earlier, trying to only explain the _concept_ of what was going on, but tell her about _Chara_ , the person, your friend, but every time you try your throat clogs up and the words get stuck, so you don't.

Instead, you just say ' _Yes,_ ' hoping the longing in your voice makes up for it.

Alphys takes a deep breath and nods resolutely. "Okay," she says. "Okay. I might- I might have an idea of what to do. Or- or where to start."

She glances over at Sans. He stretches his arms above his head.

"On it," he says, winking at you. "Hey, Frisk, how would you feel about taking a walk?"

"Where are we going?"

"Well, _first_ we're gonna go talk to Tori so she gets a chance to calm down for real. After that… Alphys, you wanna do the honors?"

Her voice is trembling, just a little bit, but she still sounds as determined as you've ever seen her be.

"We need to visit the lab. We're going back down to the Underground."

* * *

Sans walks with you all the way to your and Toriel's house. No short-cuts. His presence beside you is familiar, calming, as your mind races at the thought of going back to Mt Ebott. The thought fills you with a strange sort of icy almost-dread. All those caverns, all those homes, with no one living there anymore… it must be so empty. It must be so lonely.

 _He_ must be so lonely.

… it's been a while since you thought about Asriel. Mostly you try not to, because it's not at all a happy thought.

You left him down there, all alone. He helped you save everyone, and in the end you abandoned him. Because he asked you to. And because when he did, when you tried to insist that he could come with you anyways, that you were sure it'd be okay, Chara's presence in your mind went strangely cold and distant and they sounded so detached when they told you to just listen to him, to just do what he wanted. So you did. You walked out of there, and you never told anyone what had really happened.

Just another secret for you to keep.

Keeping Chara secret from Asriel, and Asriel secret from everyone else - you wonder what they'd think if you told them they were sort of similar, in a way.

… this isn't something you want to be thinking about right now. You try to distract yourself by talking to Sans,but he keeps stubbornly dodging every question you ask until you're so frustrated every trace of melancholy is burnt out of your system, and you wish you had something to throw at him.

"You'll see," he says in response to 'What's in the lab?', 'What was Alphys talking about?', 'What are we going to tell Mom?', 'Why can't you just tell me now?', and just about every other question you can think of.

You're almost there when he retorts with a question of his own.

"So. I gotta wonder. Why don't you just go back?"

"...huh?" The question catches you unawares and it takes longer than usual for it to filter through your consciousness and be deciphered into actual words.

"You're obviously not very happy with this outcome. So… why don't you go back? Don't get me wrong," he says when he notices your shocked expression, "I'm not saying you should. I'm just… curious."

"I can't," you say once you remember how words work.

"Why not?"

You shrug. "I don't know. I never…" You swallow and then revise your statement. He knows. It's okay. " _We_ never really figured out how any of it actually _works_ , we just… did it. Besides," you can't help but smile slightly as you say it, even with how miserable the situation is, "they were always more determined than I am."

It looks like there's more things he wants to say, or maybe ask, but you're already back home, so the conversation is effectively over, and besides: payback is sweet. Time to face your adoptive mother's concern-and-or-fury.

"Tori," Sans calls when you open the door. "Brought your kid back."

There's a muffled exclamation from the kitchen, the sound of something hastily being put back down on a table, and then Toriel rushes into the hallway and drops down to her knees in front of you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Hi, mom," you whisper into her fur. She hugs you even harder. You… must've really frightened her, huh? It's weird to think that she'd be worried on a venture as relatively safe as this one, considering everything that happened to and around and because of you in the underground, but. You suppose maybe you sort of understand.

You close your eyes and hug her back until, of course, she pulls away. Her eyes are narrowed as she looks you up and down, most likely checking for injuries. Once she's seen that you're okay - no broken bones, no scratches - some of the tension disappears, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You do feel bad about worrying her, really.

The time between her relaxing just a fraction and her going into lecture mode is approximately zero point three seconds. You keep up the appearance of listening attentively as she gently chides you for not telling you where you were going, not answering her calls, and not dressing more warmly when you're going outside in this weather. To be honest you sort of zone out half-way through, making nods at what you think is the appropriate places.

...the first time Toriel got upset with you, you freaked out really badly. You couldn't even really hear what she was saying, you were so caught up in having made her angry and thinking you'd ruined everything for sure this time that it was hard to focus on anything else, up until Chara stepped in and breathed with you for a while, just until they'd balanced you out enough to keep going on your own. It hadn't been a serious lecture. She hadn't even raised her voice at you, not really. It's just that you find it difficult to tell sometimes, with adults.

"-but I need to know where you are," Toriel is saying sternly. You bring your attention back to her. "You could have gotten lost, or injured, and we would have had no clue of where to look for you!"

"I know, mom," you say, dutifully. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry - I just panicked. I'm okay now, really."

All the fight seems to go out of her and she sighs deeply, before giving you a weak smile and placing her hand on your shoulder, getting up from the floor. "I know you would not alarm me on purpose. I am glad that you are alright."

"So, speaking of letting her know where you're going, Frisk," Sans says. You roll your eyes at him.

' _Your idea,_ ' you sign, shielding your hands with your body so Toriel can't see. _'And since you won't explain it to me properly, you get to tell her. Congrats.'_

"Eh, I guess that's fair," he shrugs, turning to Toriel. You're a bit disappointed you didn't manage to get a reaction out of him. _One day._ "Frisk, Alphys and I are going on a field trip. There's a couple of things to sort out in the underground - nothing big, just some stuff we didn't get a chance to sort out before we left. Some stuff we think Frisk'd like to see, too."

Whatever she was expecting him to say, this clearly wasn't it.

She glances between the two of you for a long time before she speaks, obviously weighing her words very carefully. "Frisk, I know that you are very capable, but I do not feel comfortable sending you down there on your own."

But Sans reassures her. "They'll be okay, Tori. You know Frisk, they've always been an independent sort of kid." He winks. "'Sides, they won't be on their own. I'm keeping them company, right, Frisk?"

"So is Alphys," you remind her, nodding eagerly. Her discomfort does seem to fade a bit at that, but not entirely.

"Even so, I think it would be for the best if I joined you as well-"

 _No._ You're shaking your head long before she's done speaking, but Sans interrupts her before you have the time to.

"Nah, you've other things to worry about. Can't abandon your students like that."

"I suppose you are right," she says, not looking entirely appeased. Nevertheless you sigh in relief.

"I'll be okay, really," you tell her, making sure to smile wide and confidently. "It's just a short trip, Mom! It's not like I haven't been before…"

"I know," she sighs, "But still… I cannot help but worry. Is this truly necessary, my child?"

"Yes," you tell her immediately. Part of you wants to tell her that it's _important_ , that you _have_ to go, but that'd just make her suspicious, and even less likely to let you off without her. She looks at you. You do your best to seem upbeat and genuine. After a while she reluctantly nod.

"Be very careful," she tells you sternly, before turning to Sans and, equally sternly, orders him to look after you, and both of you to check in with her regularly. She offers to bake you something for the road, but Sans declines, saying you'd better get going if you want to get there before it's dark. With a start you realise he's right; it's almost afternoon. Your stomach finds it suitable to remind you that you haven't eaten anything since breakfast. It does this rather loudly, and Toriel insists you at least grab something from the fridge before you leave.

You're glad to have her looking after you.

… once Chara is back, you swear to yourself, you'll make sure to convince them to tell her.

* * *

The hike up Mt Ebott is better with company. The wind whooshes through the trees, the leaves crinkle under your feet, and you steadily make your way up the mountain, Sans and Alphys not far behind you.

This time you have an actual backpack, with some stuff you thought might be of use - a piece of rope, because that feels like a sensible thing to bring on an adventure, a small box of bandaids, for the same reason, and a tupperware container with some food, because even though monster food doesn't go bad it feels better to actually _keep_ it somewhere than to just shove it in your pockets.

There are also items that are far less practical: a bar of chocolate, Chara's favourite brand, and a worn copy of _Le Petit Prince_ , which Chara sometimes pretends to think is childish, even though you share a head and you can feel it makes them just as happy as it makes you.

You're not sure why you brought them. Most likely they're just gonna end up being dead weight, but… It just felt wrong to do anything relating to Chara without bringing books and chocolate.

… if he still won't listen and come back home with you, you'll leave the book with Asriel.

You reach your destination just as it's getting darker, stopping by the entrance to the Underground in silence. _I'm coming for you, Chara_ , you think, hands clenching around the straps of the backpack. _I'm going to fix this. I'm getting you back._

"Well. Here we are, then," Sans says, hands in his pockets, standing right at the edge of the cliff. Behind you, the sun is setting.

"Are you r-ready, Frisk?" Alphys asks.

The Underground spreads out below you.

You give them both a determined nod, and begin the descent.


	5. Chapter 5

**_AN:_ Back to Chara's POV for this one. Italics indicate it's in the past. (or future, depending on how you think about it...) **

* * *

_The food options on the surface are a lot less limited than they were in the Underground, but everyone still has their favourites. Toriel, in particular, still has… peculiar tastes._

" _-crack the shell, and then separate them, like so," she instructs, demonstrating as she goes along. "Then all there is left to do is wash them, and cut them into smaller pieces. Do you think you can do that for me?"_

" _Of course, mom," Frisk beams, smile vanishing as soon as Toriel turns her back on them to take the pie crust out of the fridge to shape it. She always makes them one day in advance. With a feeling akin to dread, Frisk turns back to the task at hand._

 _The snails squelch in the bowl. Frisk scrunches their nose up and sneaks a peek at Toriel out of the corner of their eye. Once they've confirmed she's not looking, they experimentally poke one of them, only to immediately jerk their hand back with a grimace and a soft, but heartfelt, '_ _ **ew.'**_

 _ **...you pick some up and get to work,**_ _you prompt them, after a moment has passed and they've failed to do so on their own accord._

 _ **This is gross,**_ _they grumble to you as they, slowly and with a lot of reluctance, sink their hands into the bucket to grab a fistful of snails._ _ **So incredibly gross.**_

 _ **It's not that bad**_ _, you say pragmatically._ _ **Snail pie is actually pretty decent.**_

 _They shudder theatrically in response._

 _ **Just give it a chance!**_ _you say, muffling a laugh._ _ **Maybe you'll be surprised… Preparing it can't possibly be worse than wading through waist-high trash-water, anyhow, and you didn't complain nearly as much that time.**_

 _ **I had other things on my mind then,**_ _they reply miserably, grabbing the small mallet Toriel has provided for the task and hitting one of the snails with it._ _ **Besides, the water wasn't**_ **slimy** _ **. This is. It's gross and I'll never be clean again.**_

 _ **Don't be so melodramatic.**_

 _There's an almost audible whine as they push the snails around on the cutting board, trying their hardest not to touch them with anything but the knife and the very tips of their fingers. While somewhat amusing, it's highly inefficient, and they do seem genuinely distraught. You take pity on them._

 _ **Fine,**_ _you sigh, metaphorically rolling your eyes at their ineptitude,_ _ **Just let me do it.**_

 _ **Are you sure?**_ _Frisk asks, even though they're obviously itching to not have to touch the snails anymore._

 _ **Yeah, come on,**_ _you encourage them._ _ **Budge over.**_

 _They retreat with a relieved sigh, allowing you to take over. After some trial and error you've gotten the hang of things and fall into the rhythm of it, cracking them open, removing the snails from their shells and slicing them up. Even with Frisk's backseat-driving, pointing out every shrapnel of shell you miss, it's… nice, albeit time-consuming. You like feeling useful._

 _Also: knife._

" _I'm done!" you announce once there's no whole snails left. Toriel glances up from her phone - the pie crust is finished and back to cooling down for a bit in the fridge, and the other ingredients (some of which were unavailable underground. Looks like she_ _ **is**_ _updating her repertoire after all) are all ready to go. You must've taken longer than you thought. In the meantime, she has been… texting, judging by her somewhat flustered smile and barely held-back laughter with Sans, and letting you finish at your own pace._

 _She gives you a proud, motherly pat on the head. You let the warm glow fill your chest._

" _Very well done, Frisk," she says, and the glow dissipates, leaving only a bittersweet flicker behind. "Would you like to stay in the kitchen until it is done, or should I call you back down for dinner?"_

 _ **Frisk?**_

 _ **I never finished my maths homework,**_ _they say apologetically. You sigh._

" _I need to do my homework," you tell Toriel, almost biting your tongue to avoid saying 'we'._

 _ **Thanks,**_ _Frisk says as you hand control back over to them and they trudge up the stairs._

 _ **No problem,**_ _you reply._ _ **… dibs on not eating**_ **all** _ **of the pie, by the way. You have to at least**_ **taste** _ **it.**_

 _ **Charaaaa,**_ _they whine._

 _ **It's an acquired taste,**_ _you insist._ _ **That means you have to acquire the taste for it.**_

 _They roll their eyes at you. You try to trip them up the stairs._

 _It's good. God help you, it's_ _ **good.**_

* * *

There is a pattern to this: he heats up the water, and you get the cups, hoisting yourself up on top of the counter so you can reach. He promises not to tell Toriel you've been climbing on the kitchen furniture and you stay there, feet dangling above the floor. You talk for a bit, about everything and nothing, small-talk about how things are going with his garden, polite inquiries about your studies and whether you've done anything interesting that day, and then you lapse into comfortable silence and finish your tea before it grows cold.

The pattern is well-rehearsed enough that you can still perform the steps without much conscious thought, enough that it is still a comforting routine.

It has been a long while since you were alone with Asgore.

Frisk doesn't see him that often, because Toriel is still angry with him (of course she is - if she knew the _truth_ , she would be angry with you too), and Frisk… doesn't have much incentive to seek him out on their own. You think the main reason they still do it at all is for your sake.

The thought sticks in your throat and you take an extra big sip of the tea to force it down.

Not seeing him much just the two- well, _three_ of you doesn't mean you never see him, it's just that it's always with others. Ambassador things, which are almost entirely Frisk. Anime nights at Alphys' - those times are mostly you, because you always get super into it and Frisk says your excitement gets annoying when you can't even bounce in your seat or something to give it an outlet, and everyone's watching the screen anyways. They only really step in if it looks like you'll get into another debate about the underlying themes, or which character is obviously superior. (If you talk too much, someone is bound to notice the difference.)

Asgore tries to follow along with the debates when they do, inevitably, happen - you and Alphys are both _very_ opinionated people when you find the right topic - but he keeps mixing names up. And timelines. And entire series. You can still recall, in perfect detail, the resigned look on Alphys' face when he tried to bring up Sayaka in a discussion about Sailor Moon.

… he's always been like that, you remember. Clumsily trying to relate to your and Asriel's interests. Asriel had to explain the rules of your games so many times…

You peek out from under your hair, watching him in what you hope is a furtive manner, trying to find and catalogue the differences between Asgore now and Asgore later, but… you can't. Speaking purely visually, there's nothing there for you to point to and say 'this, this is how you see it', no white fur now that will be grey later, no clear signs of aging. (Of course, there wouldn't be. He wouldn't age after… after.) Still.

He looks… not younger, then, but _lighter. After_ there's always been like a weight on him, a tension in his shoulders that isn't there now (isn't there yet?), a… tiredness. He _feels_ younger.

Especially when Toriel comes back home (you quickly jump down from the counter, Asgore intercepting her at the door so she doesn't see) and he greets her with none of the restraint, none of the reservation you've grown so used to seeing between the two of them.

You quietly leave your cup in the sink and sidle out of the room. It's starting to sink in that impossible as it seems you've really gone back, further than you ever have before.

' _Prove yourself', she tells you- tells_ _ **them**_ _, this_ _child who stumbles along and plays nice and acts like they're_ _ **good**_ _when there's no such thing, you know how humans are and_ _ **there is no such thing.**_

 _ **You heard her,**_ _you tell them, suppressing a scoff at their near-flinch._ _ **Show her you're strong enough.**_

 _The whole thing is such a farce, you think. Kid can barely even hold the knife properly; their grip is all wrong, clasped between both their palms and still they're shaking. It's ridiculous. It's not like Toriel, of all people, who's told you stories and tucked you into bed and never so much as tried to_ _ **slap**_ _you or Asriel would ever hurt a child._

 _She throws fire at them._

 _The flames are temperature-regulated, of course. Like the ones in the fireplace. The kid is still scared, jerking out of their path with clumsy steps, trying in vain to give them a wide berth. You're rolling your eyes - but then they get hit, and they cry out in pain, and you cry with them, because it- it_ _ **burns**_ _._

 _it burns you._

 _They force themself back on their feet to keep going, but you're trying to remember how to breathe even though you don't have lungs to do that with right now._

 _You should have known. You should have_ _ **known.**_

 _You can't believe you were stupid enough to ever_ _ **trust**_ _anyone. You should know better than most that love is a lie, that no one could ever really care like that, that everyone will come to betray you in the end, that if even_ _ **Asriel**_ _could let you down-_

 _ **Fight her,**_ _you hiss at them as they try to talk her down with no success,_ _ **fight her, you coward, you fucking coward, you'll never get past if you don't, she'll KILL you, just show her you're strong enough and she'll**_ _ **STOP!**_

 _Finally, finally they listen, and you move almost synchronised as you duck under and step aside from fireballs, lashing out with the toy knife as soon as it's your turn._ _ **She'll give up soon,**_ _you tell the kid (you tell yourself),_ _ **she can't keep this up, she can't.**_

 _You're too slow to dodge and the fire sears their skin. They cry out in pain and for a moment she looks guilty, but she does not stop._

 _The kid forces themself back to their feet and make another clumsy strike. Their HP is getting low._

 _ **You need to dodge better,**_ _you say, and_ _ **I'm**_ **trying** _ **,**_ _they shoot back, one of the first times they've spoken with you-_

 _\- and then, distracted so they forget to dodge, they're hit by two bullets in quick succession, a sharp scream bursts from their throat, and their HP hits zero._

 _The pain flares through their entire body - you imagine this is what being struck by lightning feels like - and their soul shakes, pulses brightly- and shatters._

 _The world goes black. You're slipping away again, back into oblivion; there is nothing to hold onto any longer, there is nothing there, nothing-_ _ **no.**_ _You're not leaving yet. Neither of you are leaving yet. You are_ _ **not letting go.**_

 _You reach out for a feeling, for a moment, a memory - you grab hold of it and you_ _ **pull.**_

 _You reload your save._

 _The world blinks back into existence. Toriel's house stands before you, savepoint twinkling among the leaves. The kid's back to full health, but they're shaking, and within moments they're on the ground, retching._

 _She… killed you._

 _You_ _ **died.**_

 _This is a betrayal the likes of which you've never felt before. A rage is welling up in you, ugly and loud, drowning out everything else until you're buzzing with it, until you can barely stop yourself from screaming until the whole world echoes with the force of it, until all you want is to, is to…_

 _The kid's thoughts are a mess, an incoherent stream of_ _ **what was that what happened what did you do what did you DO-**_

 _ **You died,**_ _you say, cold, cold, cold._ _ **You weren't strong enough and she killed you.**_

 _There's a pathetic little hickup, their breath hitching._ _ **But I'm still alive. What…**_

 _ **I don't know**_ _, you tell them, truthfully._ _ **But I think I could do it again.**_

 _Your mind whirrs with possibilities, all of you pulsing to the same beat as the hatred still filling you up, slowly becoming ice rather than fire._

 _ **Do you want to get stronger?**_ _you ask the kid, and you don't have lips but they feel wooden, not moving right._

 _They wipe the bile from their mouth. There's a second of hesitation, but that's all._ _ **Yes,**_ _they tell you._

 _ **Good,**_ _you say,_ _ **let me show you how,**_ _and yo t_

* * *

When you first moved into New Home you'd wander around and try to get lost in the halls, search for hidden spaces and interesting things both together with Asriel and on your own, but there was a disappointing lack of secret passages, and while there were plenty corridors and nooks and crannies to get lost in, after a while you'd seen it all.

This place hasn't changed.

Technically that is, or should be, obvious; of course it hasn't changed, when would it have had the time to? It's exactly as it was when you left it. Your clothes are still piled in the drawer, and the sheets in the bed still smell like home, rather than old and strange like they did when you came here with Frisk.

You find your knitting needles wedged between the mattress and the wall. On some level you'd expected them to be dusty, but of course they're not. They like new, a newly-started project wrapped around them. You can't remember what it was supposed to be, so you probably never had the time to finish it.

Toriel keeps chocolate in the fridge for you. You remember, she never stopped doing that, not even after… everything.

It is _the same_ , they are all _the same_ and they are talking to you as if you are too, and it is breaking you, just a little. This place is stagnant, suspended in time.

Some days you can't look them in the eyes. Looking at Asriel at _all_ is bordering on impossible, and talking to him is worse. He still _looks up to you,_ impossibly, blissfully unaware of everything you have done to hurt him, all the ways you have screwed everything up, the way you were ultimately responsible for his _death._ It is difficult to face Asgore and Toriel, too, but. You could fix that, you could undo those mistakes, you and Frisk, together, could set that right.

At the time you thought it got you one step closer to some sort of redemption.

Even so, staying here, being with them… It's like living among ghosts. (You're not certain who is less real; them, or you.)

You deal with it about as well as you've always dealt with anything, which is to say, disastrously poorly. You avoid Asriel more often than not,claiming that you're tired, you have a headache, you need to go over that thing Toriel talked about during your lessons yesterday one more time (and he brightens up and says _that's okay, we can do it together!_ and the way his face falls when you make it clear that _no_ , you want to be _alone_ , would break your heart if you had one).

Avoiding Asriel leaves you with frustratingly few options to keep yourself occupied - and you do need to occupy yourself, or your thoughts threaten to drag you to places you never want to go again. Reading or studying isn't tactile enough. You need to _do_ something, you're crawling out of your skin with the need to be _active_ , but there are so very few things you _can_ do. You clean your room several times over. You knit until your fingers start cramping. You even brave the garden again, pulling up weeds with vehemence.

During one of these desperate searches for household chores you find yourself in the kitchen, just as Toriel is preparing dinner. She pauses as she sees you, greeting you warmly. She does not ask if you want to help, though she does invite you to stay and observe.

You do.

...she's making snail pie. You still remember how it's done, though she is faster than you and Frisk were. Practice makes perfect, and all that.

Some ways through the preparations Asgore calls her over to the door - there's someone there to talk to her about something that sounds vaguely important, but also extremely irrelevant. Toriel quickly washes her hands and gives you a pat on the head that pretty much translates to 'run and play' before exiting the kitchen.

And then it's just you.

You really need something to do.

The cutting board is left unattended. It's practically begging for your attention.

Sneaking a peek out from the kitchen, you confirm that Toriel is still deep in conversation with her visitor, though you can't hear what they're discussing. There's only a few steps up to the counter, and you know this, know how to do this - there's no mallet but you figure you can just sort of use the flat side of the knife, and put some weight on it, if you're careful. Working with your own hands is a bit different than it was with Frisk's, but soon enough you've found the trick, methodically working your way through the bucket. The knife feels steady in your hand; it's a good one, even though it isn't _yours._

You're about halfway through the bucket when there comes a sudden gasp from behind you, yanking you back into awareness of your surroundings. Your concentration slips.

So does the knife.

You cry out, more in surprise than in pain, as it skids off the shell and onto your hand, slicing across your fingers. Blood wells up along the cut, shortly followed by pain. How strange, you think, detached. How strange…

It seems somehow _sharper_ when Frisk isn't there to share it with you.

Toriel - because of course it's her, who else? - exclaims in distress and kneels beside you, grabbing your hand to examine your injury.

"You have hurt yourself!," she frets. "You must allow me to heal you at once."

"I'm alright, really," you murmur, fighting the instinct to defensively rip your hand from her grasp and cradle it against your chest. "It's just a scratch, m-Toriel, I've had worse-"

You fall silent as she gives you a stern glance, turning your hand over in her grasp, and then calling up her magic to heal you. It tingles, and then the wound is gone without a trace, no chance of scarring at all.

"There…" she murmurs. "I believe that should do it. Does it still hurt at all?"

You experimentally flex your fingers and form a fist before shaking your head. "No, it's fine." There's no pain left either. No pain, no scar, nothing but a small bloodstain on your sleeve. Like it never happened. "… thank you."

"It is no trouble." Satisfied that you're all healed up, she stands back up. "I apologise - I startled you. I should not have left you unattended in the first place."

You frown, staring down at the floor. Her voice loses none of its worry, but gains more than a hint of exasperation.

"...Chara. We have talked about this."

 _This,_ you realise after a short moment of reflection, is not the cooking, but the knives. You're not supposed to use them. You're not allowed near sharp objects without supervision. (Toriel has taken great care to make sure there's few, if any, sharp objects in the house at all.)

"I know," you say. "I forgot."

You did. It's been…

Frisk does not have the same restrictions as you do. It's been, for lack of a better word, _freeing_ to be _trapped_ inside them. It's… easier, when you are two.

You are not the same child you were when you lived here. You have been with Frisk, travelling with them, helping them, been a _part_ of them, for much too long not to be different.

Somehow, along the way, you suppose you must have grown.

You don't remember how to act, who they are expecting you to be. You don't remember who you are when you aren't Frisk's co-pilot.

Toriel hums noncommittally, bringing you back to the present.

"Are you alright?" she asks, with what seems to you a frankly unreasonable amount of worry.

"...yes?" you say, uncertain, before you realise what she's getting at. You straighten up, doing your best to look her in the eyes when you respond. "I'm fine. It was an accident, honest."

She nods, seemingly willing to accept your claim at face value. "Please be more careful in the future, my child. We all care about you very much."

"I will be," you say, and it feels half a lie. "... I care about you too."

"Well," she says, visibly pulling herself back to her good mood. You decide to follow suit. "Regardless, I'm afraid we shall have to cut this particular cooking session short. Do you know why?"

There's that particular glint in her eye and she's barely even trying to hide her grin. You ask anyways. "Why?"

"Because I _goat_ -a go."

You stifle a snort and smile widely at her. "That one was bad even for you, mom. You could even say it was… _sans_ ationally awful." You wait for the giggle, but none comes. She just looks mildly puzzled, and with a painful twinge in your chest you realise: this Toriel has never met Sans. (has never met Frisk)

You wave her goodbye and you go to your room and pull the covers over your face and you try not to scream.

* * *

 _This time, they do not fear the flower. Toriel comes to save them and you look at her, you_ _ **look at her,**_ _you try to see through the smile, through the act of care and compassion, through her_ _ **lie.**_

 _The kid takes her hand even though they're trembling, and she leads them just as before._

 _There's the first froggit, and you tighten your grip around the stick and tell the kid_ _ **here, like this,**_ _and then there is only dust. Toriel tries to chastise them and all you can think is_ _ **hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite.**_

 _She leaves you alone and everything turns to dust in your path. It's easy, so easy. You think it may have been the easiest thing you've ever done._ _ **Prove yourself,**_ _she'd said, and you are, you_ _ **are.**_ _The dust covers everything, sticking to your boots like mud, and it doesn't matter, none of it_ _ **matters,**_ _how could any of this matter when you don't even_ _ **care?**_ _You hit them and they crumble and with each one you grow stronger, with each one it gets easier._

 _ **I- I want to stop,**_ _the kid tells you, when you're nearly done, when there can't possibly be that many left._

 _ **No,**_ _you tell them dismissively._ _ **We can't stop now. She's stronger than both of us, remember? If we try again like this she'll kill us. Do you want to**_ **die** _ **again?**_

 _You throw the memory of the fire at them, the pain, and they flinch and nearly whimper._

 _ **Of course I don't!**_ _they protest._ _ **But I don't- I don't think I like this plan anymore-**_

 _The phrasing and their tone is so shatteringly familiar and you don't want to remember. Your vision goes blindingly white and you shout at them to_ _ **shut up, shut up SHUT UP**_ _until they stop talking and stop interfering and_ _ **leave you alone,**_ _until they retreat to a corner of your shared mind and you can barely feel them anymore._

 _The following encounter you hit twice as hard and don't bother dodging. The pain is insignificant, you have enough of a HP buffer that the damage is negligible, and if the kid winces when you let them back in and they have to walk on their scraped-up legs again,_ _ **good**_ _. They deserve it._

 _You erase everyone, one by one, until the ruins are empty and there is nothing left, there is no one left, you are as strong as you can get and you are_ _ **ready.**_ _You throw the stick away to replace it with the toy knife, which is not_ _ **good**_ _but will have to be_ _ **good enough**_ _, and then you enter Toriel's house._

 _She gives you pie. You stow it away for later use. She tries to tell you things about snails, but neither of you care. She wants you to stay, but you can't trust her anymore. The kid insists that they need to leave._

 _You watch as her face goes stony and her gaze distant, follow her down into the basement where you ready the knife, held properly this time, facing her head-on as she pretends she's doing it_ _ **for your own good,**_ _and you tap right back into that rage, and-_

 _It only takes one blow._

 _Everything slows to a stop. Her eyes widen- she staggers backwards, and this time, when she looks at you, she_ _ **sees**_ _you. The kid wants to cover their eyes, look away, but you don't even blink._

" _Y-you… really hate me that much…?" she says, voice thin and trembling._

 _ **Yes**_ _, you think, at the same time as the human says_ _ **no.**_ _Your fingers clench tighter around the knife._

" _Now I see who I was protecting by keeping you here. Not you… but_ _ **them**_ _." Her face twists into a desperate smile, she falls to her knees and you_ _ **know**_ _her now, you know her like you've never known her before as she dissolves into dust, soul floating up and cracking apart, and then she's gone._

 _The rage bleeds out of you, giving way to an aching emptiness. There is a void in you. You drop to your knees, hit the ground too hard but you don't feel it, the pain is not enough to penetrate the numbness. You press your hand to the dust, spread all over the floor. It's-_ _ **She's-**_

… _but it's just dust. You sift through it. It's just dust. You smear your hand across your shirt - there's a choked-off sound of protest but you push it away, you push them away - it's just dust._

 _ **Who's the monster now?**_

 _There's no reply, and you don't care. There's no one here to reply anymore, no one here except you, endless piles of dust, and the kid, who has gone entirely silent, save for what you think might be muffled sobs._

 _Somehow, you hadn't expected you could actually do it._

 _ **It isn't real,**_ _you tell them, but they don't shut up. This isn't real. None of this is real._

 _If it was real you would be_ _ **feeling**_ _something._

 _You get back up, dispassionately stepping over the pile. You have a job to do. You're getting out of here._

 _The door to the ruins open easily to your touch, releasing you out into the cold. You calculate the distance from here to the capital, wonder how many people- how many monsters could live in between here and there, wonder how many of them you'd have to dust to get strong enough. Conclude probably a lot._

 _You're going to need a sharper knife._

* * *

The incident in the kitchen is not an isolated occurrence. There are a myriad ways that you don't quite fit right anymore, where your edges bump against the accommodations they have made for the Chara that fell down for what feels like (and in a way really is) a lifetime ago, and it _chafes_.

You cut down on conversations. You keep avoiding Asriel.

You meet your own gaze in the mirror and your skin is too pale, your hair hangs too flat, and there's no one else looking out at your from behind those eyes. _It's me_ , you think helplessly, it's you, it's you, this was only ever you and now you are _alone_ and how are you supposed to bear that? How are you supposed to live with that, when you barely ever wanted to live to begin with?

This place isn't _real._ It's some ironic twist of fate, some sick joke the world is playing on you - dangle everything you've ever wanted right before your eyes and make it absolutely _unbearable_ and see how long you make it before you off yourself again, before you…

before you-

You don't know how to function without Frisk anymore, and you have always been, at the very core of you, a selfish creature.

You only know of one way to make sure you get to meet them again.

There are buttercups in the garden.


End file.
